This Place We Call Paradise
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: Fluffy one-shot of Minho and Newt in paradise together :)


This Place We Call Paradise

**sooo, this is purely a bunch of fluffy scenes from paradise with Minho and Newt. I just had to write it, because well, it's Minewt. Rated T, because these two just can't keep their hands off each other ;)

Hope you like it! Quote is from the only song I could find that describes my Minewt perfectly in every way :D (btw, there is a tiny connection to my other story, Grievers, Minho, and Other Wicked Things, but this can easily be read by itself)

Reviews, maybe? :)**

"Darling, I will be loving you til we're seventy...

Well, me, I fall in love with you every single day...

So, baby, now,

take me into your loving arms,

kiss me under the light of a thousand stars,

place your hand on my beating heart

I'm thinking out loud

Maybe we found love right where we are"

–Ed Sheeran

...

It was a beautiful spring afternoon in Haven. The sun was sinking lower on the horizon. Its blood-red rays painted the clouds crimson, and the sky was turned into a molten version of itself. Beyond the wind-whispering forest and the cliffs, the ocean was tossing up waves of fire. People and kids milled around the golden meadow and the wooden cabins. Their laughter and talk filled the warm air. Outside of Haven, however, away from the Immunes' eyes, two boys sat against a tree near the cliffs.

One of the boys, a blonde with a shock of silky hair and a cream-colored hoodie, was resting his head against the bark of the large oak tree. The boy next to him looked quite different, with his jagged raven hair and night-dark eyes. They were different in other ways too. The blonde was leanly powerful; he had the body of a panther, lithely muscular and golden-skinned. The black-haired boy, on the other hand, was steely with muscle and broad-shouldered. The blonde had a sweet smile that curved softly. The black-haired boy had the devil-may-care smirk of a wolf.

So yes, they were different.

But they still sat side by side, their fingers entwined between them, and the blonde's ankle hooked over the other boy's. The black-haired boy's smirk softened when he looked at the blonde.

Newt looked at Minho with those stormcloud-blue eyes of his and Minho felt his heart race in his chest. "What?" he asked, a half-grin on his face.

Newt shook his head. "Just...you," he answered.

Minho arched an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yeah." Newt leaned in and nuzzled Minho's neck, earning a little purr of pleasure. "You. Your voice, your eyes, your body."

Minho glanced over at that one and saw Newt's eyes trailing over him. A shiver ran down his spine. "You want something from me?" he asked suspiciously. "Or are you just being nice?"

"I want something from you," Newt murmured devilishly. He glided his fingertips down Minho's arm, tracing the strong curve of his bicep.

Minho watched Newt's fingers slide the whole way down to his wrist, his eyes half-closed. As Newt's touch slipped back up his arm again, he let out a shaky breath. "You're making me crazy," he mumbled.

Newt's mouth quirked up. "Really?" he asked innocently. "I didn't know..." He turned Minho's face toward him with two fingers on his chin, and kissed him.

Minho relaxed against the tree, kissing Newt back. The sugary taste made his head spin and left him dizzy. He angled his head to get closer, reaching up to cup Newt's cheek. Newt smiled into the kiss and mischievously nipped Minho's bottom lip. Minho gasped into his mouth. He immediately took Newt by the waist, and Newt laughed when he found himself hauled over to straddle Minho's lap. Sliding his hands up Newt's back, Minho kissed him drunkenly. He felt Newt's fingers on his chest and wished desperately that there was no shirt between them.

They broke apart breathlessly, foreheads touching. Newt started to say something and chuckled when Minho pulled at the hem of his hoodie. "You want me," he remarked knowingly.

"Why else would I be taking your shirt off?" Minho asked in a murmur.

Newt lifted his arms to let Minho peel off his hoodie, leaving him in a tank top. Then he planted his hands on Minho's shoulders and brushed his lips to his neck. Minho sighed sharply as Newt kissed a path down his throat. The blonde reached the hollow at the base of Minho's neck; he licked Minho's collarbone once and Minho tilted his head back, whimpering. "Newt," he gasped.

Newt drew back again, his mouth twisting into a smirk of his own. It took Minho's breath away. "Let's go swimming," Newt suggested suddenly.

Minho blinked. "Huh?"

"We have a whole ocean right there, don't we?"

"Well, yeah..."

"So, let's go." Newt grinned. "Unless you're scared...?"

Minho snorted. "Yeah, right," he scoffed. "I'll race you there, shank."

...

It took them only minutes to find their way down a steep slope from the cliffs. The beach stretched out to an impossible distance; in the dying sunlight, the white sands glowed like a million amber crystals. The waves crashed down far away and slid softly to shore, back and forth. Minho won the race (of course), and they skidded to a stop on the sand. The breeze tugged at their hair and clothes.

Minho tossed Newt a smug smile. "I win," he chirped.

Newt gave him a withering look. "I have a LIMP."

"Excuses, excuses."

"Idiot."

"Love you too."

Newt rolled his eyes. "Okay then, rematch," he declared. He pointed out at the ocean. "First person in the water wins. Loser's gotta be the winner's slave for a week. Okay? Okay. Go!" He was already stripping his tank top off.

Minho shouted indignantly and hastily tore at his denim shirt. "Hey, no fair!" he yelled childishly. "My shirt's got buttons!"

"Excuses, excuses!" Newt scolded mockingly. He had his tank top off and was kicking out of his shoes. Wearing nothing but jeans, he took a few teasing steps toward the water. "Better hurry, Min! Unless you wanna be my slave for a whole week!"

"Aw, come on!" Minho finally got his shirt off, and shoved at his boots, but it was too late. Newt resurfaced a few yards out, flicking water from his blonde hair. He sank in up to his chest and let the water carry his weight. He gave Minho an apologetic shrug. "You suck!" Minho growled, stomping out into the water. It was icy, and sent shivers up his legs.

"Looks like I got myself a sore loser!" Newt sang.

"Oh, you're dead now!" Minho dove underwater. Seconds later, Newt yelped as Minho scooped him up by the waist and dropped him over his shoulder. A splash followed the blonde's disappearance into the waves. Minho stood in waist-deep water, grinning and raking his hands through his hair.

Suddenly, Newt came up behind him and shoved him down by the shoulders. Minho crashed underwater, his vision filled with blurry azure. When he resurfaced, spitting out salty water, Newt was laughing. "You look hilarious," he snickered, golden hair flopping into his eyes.

"Whatever," Minho muttered. "You look...stupid."

"That's the best you can come up with?"

"Shut up."

Minho smirked and caught Newt around the waist, dragging him down into the water. They were in up to their shoulders, Minho holding Newt close. He kissed Newt deeply, hands at the curve of Newt's back. Newt made a small sound from the back of his throat and hooked his legs around Minho's hips. The kiss turned wild and heated, fast. Minho was losing himself, his fingers sinking deep into Newt's back pockets. Newt's hands were everywhere, on Minho's chest, sliding over his rippling abs, climbing up his back. Minho broke away for air, gasping.

"God, I love you," Newt managed, just as breathless.

Minho brushed a kiss to Newt's forehead, smiling at the words. "C'mon. We gotta get back to Haven."

After snagging their clothes from the beach, though, they ended up laying down on the grass above the endless stretch of the sea. The sky overhead was darkening, turning to deepest purple. The first stars were shining down like little, spilled diamonds. Minho was on his back, fingers laced behind his head. His shirt was still off and water slipped from his skin. Newt was next to him, a presence he could feel like an electrical charge in his veins. He tried not to look at the way crystal droplets clung to the blonde's abs and chest. He had a sudden awful urge to taste those drops on Newt's skin. He shoved the thought away.

Newt's lovely, accented voice cut into his thoughts. "What's that?"

Minho glanced over and saw Newt sitting on an elbow; he was pointing curiously to a circular, pink scar in Minho's flesh, just between his shoulder and chest. "Oh. Um, that's from a Griever Sting," he answered. He darkened at the memory.

Newt looked troubled too. "THE Griever Sting...?" he asked, trailing off. Minho nodded and they fell silent for a moment. They both shared bad memories from that day. Then Newt pointed again. "What about that one?"

It was a clean slice mark across Minho's chest. "Knife," he replied, hardly thinking about it. "When we were fighting WICKED, some moron tried to stab me."

"Okay..." Newt's gaze travelled over Minho. He touched a longer scar on Minho's upper arm. "What's this one from?"

Minho's skin burned under Newt's touch. "Um...that's from...another Griever," he stammered. "While I was running."

Newt nodded half to himself. Then he grazed his fingertips over a nasty scar on Minho's forearm. "And this one?" he asked quietly.

"I—" Minho swallowed. His mind was fogging up now. "Uh. That was, um. A bullet grazed me. Fighting WICKED."

Newt gently guided Minho's hand from behind his head and studied his arm. He tapped his index finger to a smaller pink mark on Minho's wrist. "This?" he asked in a murmur.

"Um. That was, uh." Minho found that he couldn't breathe. "I think that was a burn. From the...from the Glade. I—I was—" he stuttered as Newt stroked his thumb over the burn scar, his blue eyes fixed on Minho. "I was in the kitchens...and I, ohhh..." He trailed off when Newt placed his lips to his wrist, over the scar. His breath hitched as the blonde continued to kiss his skin, all tenderness. Newt moved down Minho's arm, kissing every old scar and leaving a path of delicious tingles in his wake. Minho was trembling, unable to move. When Newt reached the Griever Sting on his chest, he gasped shakily. Newt pulled back questioningly. "Th—that one's always, um," Minho stammered as Newt met his eyes, his fingertips slipping to Minho's stomach. "S—sensitive."

"Does it hurt?" Newt asked, and dear God, his voice was low and husky.

"No," Minho choked out. "Just, I mean—Oh God." His voice dissolved as Newt kissed the Griever Sting scar, his lips moving roughly over the skin. The contact raised up almost-painful shocks in the scarred flesh, lighting up Minho's chest with a pleasure that nearly hurt. He mewled as Newt continued torturing him, teeth brushing the scar. The blonde nibbled daringly at the skin and Minho bit his lip to stop a groan. "Oh God, Newt, n—not too much," he pleaded helplessly. "I don't know what—" He broke off as Newt splayed a hand on his stomach, searing his flesh with heat. Newt suddenly kissed harder and dug his tongue into the center of the scar. Tingles of ecstasy exploded in Minho's skin. He threw his head back and moaned, arching up desperately.

Newt was on top of him in an instant, bracing his forearms on either side of his head. Their stomachs and chests brushed, their legs twining together. Minho was gasping for air from the effects of his scar, clinging instinctively to Newt's belt loops. "Dammit, Newt," he breathed.

Newt didn't let him say anything else. He crushed their mouths together in a smoldering, consuming kiss. Minho was done for, he knew. He had never been this vulnerable before, not even with Newt. The kiss ignited, went wild. Newt moved from Minho's mouth to his neck, running his tongue down his center. Minho gripped Newt's shoulders as the blonde kissed all the way down to his navel. Smirking a bit, Newt licked the few lingering drops of water from Minho's abs. Minho groaned brokenly, intoxicated with every touch. Newt slid back up Minho's body, his chest heaving. Their lips were inches apart. Newt hooked his fingers in the front of Minho's jeans and undid them.

Minho's heart stuttered. "Here?" he asked, shuddering. "But I've never—" He was stopped by Newt's finger on his lips.

Newt's mouth turned up at the corner. "Neither have I," he whispered softly.

Minho stared at him. "You'd give yourself...to me?"

"Minho, I'm in love with you," Newt murmured. The night sky opened behind him, breathtakingly beautiful. "I'm...incredibly, crazily, unbelievably in love with you. There's no one else in this world I'd rather give myself to. Give everything to."

Minho's heart filled with so much love, he was sure it would burst. He ran a hand over Newt's silky hair. "Newt," he whispered, "if you knew how much I needed you...you wouldn't believe it. When I thought you died, my life ended." He swallowed back tears. "I thought there was no reason left for me to live. Because you're my whole life, Newt. You have my heart. Without you, I couldn't—I would—" He stopped and smiled a wobbly smile at Newt. "I love you so much."

Newt was shivering. "I love you too, Minho. More than anything." His eyes raked over the gorgeous boy beneath him. "M—Minho?"

"Yeah, angel?" Minho tugged at Newt's hips, making him sink completely on top of Minho. There was no more space between them.

"C—can you just kiss me now?" Newt stammered, and then he realized this was exactly what he'd said so long ago, in a room full of maps...

Minho grinned because he knew. This time, he answered, softer than a lullaby. "I'll do more than just kiss you this time, sweetheart."

And overhead, the full moon sailed in a velvet sheet of blue-black and stars, watching over this place they called paradise.


End file.
